Signed, Sealed, Personally Delivered: Letters to Oliver
by Sentimentalthoughts
Summary: This is an attempt at stories about our heroes sharing the letters that Shane wrote Oliver. I think the great Martha Williamson would have all the letters read between them at the DLO – as in a great play that takes place in a single room. I haven't accomplished that. Nevertheless, I hope that you enjoy reading these as we await the next installment of the real SSD.
1. Chapter 1

This is an attempt at stories about our heroes sharing the letters that Shane wrote Oliver. I am using the fanfic, Letters to Oliver, as the basis for what they share. I have rewritten this fic to include the letters from the previous fanfic as well as added a chapter that I just noticed was missing. I think the great Martha Williamson would have all the letters read between them at the DLO – as in a great play that takes place in a single room. I have not accomplished that. I also think the "real" letters would have been far deeper, yet brighter and probably less confessional than what I wrote. Nevertheless, I hope that you enjoy reading these as we await the next great installment of the real Signed, Sealed, Delivered.

Our story thus begins.

With a cascade of letters, a few bitter tears, and a kiss that was filled with longing and acceptance, three months of separation began to melt away. The two who fate seemed to keep apart were brought together at just the right time.

Oliver didn't want her out of his arms' reach and certainly not out of his sight. It was a reunion that was paid for with a price. Sitting side by side on the DLO counter, they shared her first *two letters, an odd Yoo-hoo Kombucha smoothie, a few laughs, and the need for Oliver's missing handkerchief.

"Are you ready for the second one?"

"Certainly," replied Oliver, squeezing her hand.

 _March 5_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _Our plane just landed and I've been shown to my quarters. I have 30 minutes before I have to report. I have already surrendered my laptop and cell. I need my phone. I need to call you. I need to tell you that I wish I had never left._

 _I wish our date had never been interrupted. I wish we had finished our walk. Do you know how wonderful it was when I took your arm and you reached across and held my hand? I wish we sat in our squeaky porch swing – laughing and talking. I wish you had kissed me again._

 _I must confess. I bought your favorite coffee and had it ready to brew when we returned from dinner - if you came in – if you wanted a cup of coffee. There are two Yoo-hoo's in the refrigerator. Let me be clear, I didn't buy them for me. They were there just in case you wanted one. As many ways that I thought our evening might end, it certainly wasn't with me flying off to an undisclosed location._

 _As the long hours passed inflight, all I could think of was that with each passing hour76 I was being taken further and further away from Denver, from the DLO, from you. I once told you that I have no plans on leaving. I certainly didn't plan on this. I hope you know that I will come home as soon as I can. Home, my dear gentleman, my very best date – home has become wherever you are._

 _They are calling for me._

 _With my heart full of regret for leaving,_

 _Shane_

When she read the words "very best date" Oliver sat a little taller and smiled a little brighter. The image of her sitting across from him at E Phlat flashed before him. Her blond hair, her smile, and her blue eyes, that striking red dress, the feel of her hand in his – all were before him. It started as an almost magical evening. But the salutation "full of regret" brought his shoulders down and he sighed.

Oliver spoke quietly.

"I had my own regrets. I regretted not asking Steve more questions. I regretted not waiting while you packed so I could see you once more. I too regretted not kissing you again before you left."

"You did? I mean you regretted not kissing me again?"

"Oh yes, I regretted that. I kept telling myself that you would be back soon. That our one brief moment on the stairs said enough but…"

"But after three months you began to wonder?" Shane said.

Oliver nodded.

"Well, you might have to make amends for that regret for months and months to come," Shane said with a mischievous grin.

"On that I would gladly oblige."

"Oliver O'Toole, are you flirting with me?"

"Yes, I am," he responded.

They both chuckled.

"Oliver, would it be terrible to look on Norman's desk for some tissues? I'm not sure if I'm laughing or crying."

"Certainly. I think under the circumstances, Norman wouldn't view this as too much of an encroachment."

Oliver slipped off the counter and returned with the Kleenex box. Cupping her face in his hands, he began to draw her face to his.

"I believe I have some regrets for which I need to make amends," he began.

But par for the course for these two….

"Oliver, son? Are you here?" called Joe, coming through the doors of the DLO.

Oliver quickly clasped his hands behind his back, spun on his heals, and turned to face the door. Even a grown man will halt a kiss when hearing the sound of his dad's voice. Shane could not help but chuckle at the immediate hands-off response.

"There you are. I tried calling your house. I was worried about….."

Before Joe could finish his sentence his eye caught the smiling blond whose own eyes betrayed previous tears.

"Shane? Hi, you're here." he said somewhat bewildered.

Joe immediately looked to Oliver to judge his son's demeanor in the situation. However, Oliver's gaze was fixed on Shane. The look on his face told Joe all that he needed to know in that moment.

"Hi Joe." Shane said with a smile, as she jumped off the counter to stand beside Oliver.

"I am here and I have no plans on leaving – ever, not ever."

"Well, that's good news, good news. I'm glad to hear it. I think there is more than one person that is glad to hear that," he said looking at his son with a smile.

Addressing Shane, Joe continued.

"I was just passing by…"

"Dad."

"And I thought I would…"

"DAD."

"Yes," Joe said, turning to Oliver.

"Thank you."

"Sure. You two have a lot of catching up to do. I'm going to just go. I'll see you later." he said, backing out of the room.

Joe turned to leave before Shane could say anything else. Oliver nodded to Shane and followed his dad out the door.

"Well, son, are things…ok?" Joe asked.

"Yes, dad. Things are very much… ok."

"Don't forget my advice."

Looking around the Post Office as if he might be overheard, Oliver replied, "I've already taken your advice. After all, a son should always listen to his father."

Clueless to the context, Shane could hear the two men laughing in the hallway. She took delight in the sound. Oliver's joy was her joy.

Shane knew that Joe wasn't just passing by. He was worried. Whatever had transpired the previous night had Joe looking for Oliver the next morning. Now that she thought about it, Oliver looked a little worse for wear – suit a little rumpled, and he was not clean-shaven. He was even missing his pocket-handkerchief. Joe's awkward response to seeing her spoke volumes to Shane about how badly things must have been while she was away. It verified that her absence had resulted in the hurt and anger that she saw in Oliver when he came to D.C.

Back in the hallway, the relieved dad had wrapped both arms around his son and hugged him tightly. He had become increasingly worried about him the past three months. His son was down and possibly defeated. But now, the slumped shoulders had been replaced with squared ones and a definite light had come back in his eyes. Those things alone could bring laughter to a father's heart.

"If you need me, you have my number. But something tells me, you have everything you need inside that office," said Joe.

"Dad, thank you."

"Thank you?"

"For coming to find me."

"Remember, I'm not leaving you either. See you soon."

"Yes sir."

Oliver walked back into the DLO and stood in front of Shane.

"Now, where were we?" Oliver asked raising one eyebrow.

"We were right here," she said as she stepped closer, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Just as his face was about to meet hers, the unmistakable sound of the squeaking double doors of the DLO were heard once again.

"I know I had it Friday," said Rita.

"Did you leave it on my desk?" asked Norman.

Shane stood silently by Oliver, waiting on the newly engaged couple to realize that she and Oliver were there.

"I don't think I so. I don't remember…..SHANE!" said Rita.

"IT'S SHANE!" said Norman, looking to Oliver.

Shane threw open her arms to hug her sweet, faithful friend. Unexpected tears began to flow from Shane's eyes. Both women were in need of tissues before their embrace released.

The four friends were finally together again.

Oliver could do nothing but smile at this genuinely joyful reunion.

"You're really here. We missed you!" Rita said.

"I hear that you two have big news," said Shane.

"Yes, look," Rita responded sheepishly.

Holding out her left hand, Rita revealed an engagement ring – complete with owl and tiny diamond eyes.

"Oh Norman, it's perfect. Just like you two are for each other," said Shane.

"Norman and I were going to have brunch at the Grille and I couldn't find my driver's license. So we were going to check the office. Now we found you instead."

"Hey, found it," said Norman as he lifted the card from underneath a letter on his desk.

"You and Oliver come to brunch with us. We will celebrate. Ramone has started serving a fabulous brunch. I can recite the entire menu for you if you like. Then you could decide what you want to order before we even get there."

"Rita, that is a, a very cordial invitation, but Shane and I have plans," said Oliver politely declining the invitation.

"Oh? OH," said Rita.

"We'll see you tomorrow, or Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday. Well, probably tomorrow, or maybe not, but soon," said Norman.

"I really missed you guys. I couldn't have come home to better news than your engagement," said Shane.

"Aw," uttered Rita, embracing Shane once more.

The two friends parted and Norman took his fiancé by the hand and led her out the door.

Norman realized exactly what his friend wanted right now – to be alone with Shane, to share her with no one. The moment Norman realized that Shane had returned, his attention went to Oliver. The hurt and the disappointment of the past weeks seemed to be lifting.

Oliver had not admitted to anyone that what began as disappointment had become despair for him – except Norman. Late one night in a conversation on the patio at Ramone's apartment, Oliver's guard fell – if only briefly. Norman unveiled the pain and Oliver owned it. He, more than anyone, realized the depths of Oliver's loneliness. Now, he, more than anyone, understood the depths of Oliver's fulfillment.

Oliver and Shane smiled as the two made their exit.

"What do we do now?" asked Shane.

"We find a better place to share these letters," said Oliver.

"I know where we can find a porch swing."


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver called a cab for himself and Shane. Shane had her luggage and an unnecessary coat as June was upon them. As much as he didn't want to be separated from her, he realized that in walking all night he had forsaken his morning ablutions and should shower and change. Oliver had the driver wait for him while he helped Shane with her luggage. He placed the luggage inside the door of her house and promised a quick return.

As the driver pulled away, Shane walked back outside. The memory of the interrupted date poured over her. She could hear Oliver saying "I will handle things." And he had handled things beautifully and faithfully. The porch swing didn't squeak. The rose bush had been pruned. Frankly, the yard never looked better.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. The house must be another story – no dusting, no vacuuming in three months. But when she went inside – it was spotless. Had he cleaned the house too?

"Oh no, no, no, no, no."

In her haste to pack she left clothes from her date lying on the bed.

"What did I leave out?" she asked herself as she ran to her bedroom.

Instead of finding a mess, her dress was hanging on the back of her closet door and her personal items - silk stockings and all - were neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

"OLIVER O'TOOLE," she said in disbelief.

Now she felt embarrassed. It is one thing to buy a new dress and everything that goes under it for a date; it's something else for him to have that knowledge. That wasn't her intention.

An hour passed before Oliver returned. In the meantime, Shane changed clothes -four times. First she pulled a fitted orange dress that she had bought especially for their trip to D.C. and the Miss Special Delivery pageant.

"No, that wont' do. Steve's 'hello, beautiful' sort of ruined that dress," she said to herself.

"Maybe one day," she thought. "Oh, I know."

She began to pummel dresses until she reached the back of her closet and found it. It was a simple, sleeveless, black print that she happened to be wearing when they were locked in a bank vault. She pulled her hair back, slipped on a pair of flats and went outside to wait for Oliver.

Waiting for him on the porch swing, she started to hum "When It's Springtime in The Rockies." Realizing what she was doing, she laughed at herself. She just couldn't stop smiling. The sky was a perfect springtime blue, and the trees were a shade of green one only sees just before summer. But most importantly, she was home and Oliver was on his way.

Oliver stepped out of his car. He looked so handsome in his dark slacks, white button down, and thin, taupe pullover sweater. His eyes lit at the sight of her. Just as he had taken the porch steps two at time for the first date, he took them two at time this afternoon. The bounce had returned to his steps.

"I thought you might be hungry so I picked up some sandwiches for us. I hope that's all right."

"Well, I certainly don't have anything in my refrigerator – except two Yoo-Hoo's, but you know that."

Her statement hinted at embarrassment. He was puzzled. Did she regret telling him that?

"Yes, you mentioned it in the letter that you read," Oliver said.

"You didn't…see them?"

"No. Other than carrying in your luggage I've never been in your house. Did you think otherwise?"

"Then who? Rita, of course. Oh my," said Shane relieved.

"When you didn't return Rita started coming on Saturdays to check on things. I trust that is acceptable. I handled the yard, the swing, held your mail, kept H.R. from firing you," Oliver said casually.

Still a bit puzzled he continued.

"Ms. McInerney, you seemed perplexed about my having been in your house. Are you hiding something? Do you have boxes delivered by FedEx?" Oliver said, thoroughly enjoying teasing her.

"Mr. O'Toole, I would never have such contraband in my home." Shane responded with more laughter.

Then it hit her.

"Wait, firing me? Are you serious?"

"Mr. Marek never sent any paper work for your absence. I handled it."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"He did not exactly give you time to consider such."

"Thank you for handling things."

He took her hand in his.

The two were so lost in the moment of the perfect late spring day and of being together that they didn't notice either the car that had parked across the street or the man coming toward them.

"IT'S THE BEAUTIFUL SHANE!" he called, as his long gait quickly brought him across the street.

"Ramon?! What?" cried Shane.

Coming us the walk to her house was Ramon Rodriguez, arms filled with two large brown paper bags bearing the logo of The Mailbox Grille. The two stood to meet him.

"Ovileer, you look like a man who has found new life. You breathe again. You smile again. You dance again! No?"

"Yes, yes, I do. How did you know that the beautiful Shane had returned?" Oliver questioned, trying to hide his irritation at the latest interruption..

"The lovely Rita and my good friend Normando were eating brunch – we serve the best brunch in Denver now – you must come – he told me that you had returned. I thought, the beautiful Shane has returned, we kill the fatted calf. We no play poker tonight! NO! Tonight we dance! I prepare a feast. But alas, the lovely Rita said you do not come to the Grille today. I took the repast to your office. But you were not there. So I find your house, and bring the banquet to the beautiful Shane."

"How thoughtful and such an abundance of food," Shane said in amazement.

"I give this to Ovileer. I must go now. The restaurant business keeps me very busy. Enjoy. I see you soon."

Ramon deposited the two large bags into Oliver's arms and left as unexpectedly and quickly as he came.

"Thank you," Shane called as he drove away.

The two stood on the porch watching as the car pulled away.

"Shane," Oliver said.

"Yes, Oliver."

"Do you know anyone who could lock us in a bank vault?"

The two laughed.

"No, but we can go inside. I have a very clean house."


	3. Chapter 3

The two carried their special delivery meal into the house along with the sandwiches Oliver had brought. The sandwiches could keep the two Yoo-Hoos company in the fridge. Ramon had thought of everything from appetizers to dessert. He also included a bottle of wine for the reunion. Realizing that they both were starving, they sat down to eat. Once again, attention to the letters was postponed.

The reunion of Hattie and Gabe was the main topic of dinner conversation. Oliver gave a detailed disclosure of the search including poker night and a return trip to E Phlat. The story culminated with Oliver having seen them a mile high this morning.

"You saw them this morning?" asked Shane.

"Yes, I was out for a stroll," said Oliver.

He was not ready to admit that he had walked all night. However, Shane was beginning to put the pieces together for herself.

"I hope that I can meet them one day," Shane said.

"I do too. We will work to that end. You must hear Gabe sing," said Oliver.

Once the table was cleared, the two gathered the letters and started for the porch. Just as they did, the thunder rolled and the sky opened.

"What is it about us and rain?" Shane asked.

"I do not know but I do not have any complaints, if memory serves me correctly," said Oliver with a sly grin.

The thunder rumbled again and the rain poured down.

"Maybe we should sit inside."

"Maybe we should."

The two returned to the table and sat across from each other.

"Do you have a letter opener?" asked Oliver.

Shane sheepishly opened the draw of a small writing desk and produced the letter opener that she had taken from the DLO the last time she "quit."

"Ms. McInerney, what are you doing with my letter opener? I thought you returned this. No wonder we could not find it. Removing office supplies from the United States Post Office may be a federal offence. Perhaps I need to see Lester about this?"

"Oh please no, not Lester," Shane said laughing.

"Please no is correct," said Oliver with a chuckle. "Lester may be the only person who has not interrupted our day."

Shane took the letter opener, slit the next envelope, and began to read, "March 12."

 _Dear Oliver_

 _A week has past since I wrote to you. I was trying to gain some perspective before I wrote again. Gaining perspective - that is a work in progress. This week we were fully briefed, read-in, and divided into teams. We have been appointed, assigned, and scheduled. Most of us work 12 - 16 hour days. The people I work with are focused and unwavering. They assume if you take a seat at this table that you are up to the task - that you are part of the solution - that you can do what you were brought her to do._

 _I, on the other hand, am tired and overwhelmed. I am afraid. I am afraid that I can't do what they need me to do. What if I miss something? What if I misinterpret data? What if I fail? The more afraid of failure I become, the more nervous I become, and the more clouded my thoughts seem to be. What if I can't do this – this thing that matters to so many people?_

 _I was trying to remember a verse that I heard you say. "God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of love and of a sound mind." I try to imagine you saying that to me. I can see your face, the calm assurance in your eyes. Then you lean in a little, your hands are clasped behind your back, one eyebrow slightly raised, you smile, and you whisper this verse in my ear. I keep playing this scene over and over again in my mind. I take a deep breath, and I go back to work._

 _Is it ridiculous to imagine you here, reassuring me? Is it silly to write letters that I cannot mail? You don't seem as far away when I write, especially because I am writing with your pen._

 _Yes, I have your grandfather's pen with me. I have confession to make. I intentionally brought it. I was packing and realized that I still had it in my pocket. In the confusion of the moment I forgot to return it. I don't believe that it was by accident that this opportunity came to me. It was divine delivery just as you are a divine delivery into my life. The pen is a little part of you that I get to keep with me – even so very far away._

 _And now, when I am worried about the job ahead, writing with this pen, your pen, makes things a little better._

 _You were so reassuring and affirming at the jazz club, on our walk, on my porch before you left. I could use your words now. If only you could whisper in my ear tonight._

 _Until I can actually hear your voice,_

 _Shane_

Oliver was taken back by her 12 to 16 hour days. She had to be exhausted. He thought of her at the end of long days at the DLO – of her walking out the door – still smiling - headed home. She was completely competent from her first day at the DLO. He couldn't imagine her feeling inadequate to the task. Oliver interrupted her reading.

"You are the best at what you do. You always have been. You must have been under enormous stress to have felt that way," said Oliver.

"It was pretty tough, especially at first," said Shane. "You just felt such a tremendous responsibility. Things did improve."

Then she continued her story. He was pleased and surprised that she had been so attentive to his words that she could quote Scripture that he had recited. But when she read that she had intentionally taken his pen with her, that it represented a little part of him that she kept with her, he felt the pain of regret.

Oliver slowly reached inside the v-neck sweater he wore to his shirt pocket, and removed his grandfather's pen. Leaning across the table, he began to whisper.

"I took this from you in D.C. It was a cold act on my part. Perhaps I should return it."

Shane wrapped her hand around his as they both held the pen.

"No," she said. "I can't keep your pen. I have an idea of what this pen means to you. And now you have an idea of what it means to me. This pen has become something, something that we have shared. Besides, I have the owner with me now."

She kissed his hand that held the pen and returned the pen to his pocket.

The truth was that Oliver still didn't fully realize the meaning of the pen. On nights when the bombings were still taking place, Shane clipped the pen to her pillowcase and fell asleep holding on to it. Nevertheless, that was information that she wasn't ready to share and wasn't certain that he was ready to hear. His reactions to the letter of March 16 proved her instincts correct.

Shane continued to read, "March 16."

 _It is late. I couldn't sleep. I think of you every day but I was going to wait until Sunday to write you. In my mind, Sunday was going to be our day. But right now, I'm not sure Sunday will come. While we have exchanged many true words, good words, we have many words yet to say._

 _The region we are in has become unstable. Steve keeps reassuring me that everything will be fine - that we are safe. I just don't feel safe. All I feel is fear - fear that I won't get to come home to you. You have given me every reason to want to come home - the hope of a second date, a third date - of perfecting our dance. Surely, we haven't begun this dance for it to end like this. Have we?_

Hearing of the danger she faced, the fear she felt was difficult for Oliver. He began to shift in his chair. His jaw tightened. His mind flashed back to those words exchanged with Steve on that cold, wet night 3 months ago.

"Will she be safe?"

"I'd die before I let anything happen to her."

As she read he no longer heard her, only the sound of the argument within himself.

"How could Steve be so selfish and reckless as to put her in harm's way? How could he say that he would die before he let anything happen to her and then bring her into such danger?"

But then he questioned himself. In those questions he found the most incrimination.

"How could I walk away that night and not ask more questions? While I was doubting her, was being angry at her, hurting by her absence, she was in threatening situations, writing letters, thinking of me, missing me. No wonder she asked herself every day if a man cares about a woman that much why would he let her go?"

"Oliver?"

"Oliver?"

"Uhm. Oh, I ah, I ah, I'm sorry."

"Are you all right? Maybe we shouldn't do this. We don't have to read these letters; they don't matter. Most of what I wrote was just about missing some guy at work," Shane said jokingly.

Oliver didn't laugh.

"They matter very much to me," he said.

It was obvious to Shane that Oliver hadn't heard a word she said after she told him of the danger that surrounded her.

"Here you read these last two paragraphs to me," said Shane.

She handed Oliver the letter, he cleared his throat and began to read.

 _The events of the past few days have taken me back to the afternoon we spent in the bank vault. I was so afraid. I think you knew that rush of emotion from me wasn't just about the fate of Katherine and Jonathan. You just got up from your chair, came to me, held me in your arms, and told me that it was ok. You didn't make me feel foolish. You made me feel safe. You were so strong and so…tender. I asked you to pray and you told me that you already had. Oh Oliver, please be praying now._

 _As much as I could use your strength, the security of your arms right now, I am glad that you aren't here. I couldn't bare it if anything happened to you. This is why I must write you tonight. If anything happens to me and I do not get to see Sunday come, you must not freeze again like a snowman left standing in the cold. You are the best man that I have ever known. You must go on dancing._

Oliver struggled to keep his emotions in check as he finished the letter. As he read his mind went back to that afternoon in the vault. They had read to each other words of love written by others and in those few minutes lost themselves and left their baggage behind. He had been there for her when she was afraid, when she didn't know how to pray. But when her life was really in danger, he had left her to the protection of another man and had failed to pray as he should.

He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his. He couldn't look her in the face. He stared only at her hands.

"How long were you, were you in danger?" he asked.

"Not long. The situation was taken care of." Shane replied.

Looking into her eyes he began, "I'm sorry. I was standing on that porch that night and I should have done more. I should have asked more questions. I…"

He didn't get to finish that last statement. Shane interrupted.

"No. Don't. I did, we did, the right thing. And now I am home. Our past, our time together, our experiences together helped me to have the strength to do what was needed. And the best part, I came home to you."

Oliver stood and brought her to him. His arms enveloped her and he held her again as he had that day in bank vault. In her arms, he found grace and peace. He could have lost her, not to another man, but to his own doubts, not to another life, but to death.

"You're wearing the dress," said Oliver whispered.

"You remember," said Shane.

"Yes, you were wearing this dress the afternoon we were locked in the vault and shared those letters together. I believe that you had a jacket on with it. I remember many things that I tired not to notice at the time – what you wore, the smell of your perfume, how many no's you string together when a bank vault closes on you. Those letters were a uniquely special delivery."

"Yes, they were." Shane replied.

"Don't you want you hear what I did to survive and come back to this crazy place?" she said.

"Of course," said Oliver.

"Then come sit beside me," said Shane.

Oliver moved his chair beside her and rested his arm across her shoulders.

She smiled at him and said, "That is much better, Mr. O'Toole."


	4. Chapter 4

Now safely beside Oliver and with his arm draped across her shoulders, Shane read the next letter with a lilt in her voice. She did so because she was genuinely proud of her actions and wanted him to see how great his influence was on her. More importantly, she hoped to lighten his mood.

 _March 26_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _I waited ten days to write again. My last two letters were written from a position of worry and fear. If Sunday had not come, I could not leave a legacy of fear. NO MORE. After I finished writing you last, I got back in bed and began praying, I fell asleep praying. Falling asleep while praying beats staying awake afraid. I hope God doesn't mind. I woke the next morning, determined to find a way to survive it all so that I can come back to the DLO._

 _When I woke on Friday after writing my last letter, I ate breakfast with a woman that works in an area behind me. I had noticed her before. One thing that stood out about her was that she never seemed afraid or flustered. I discovered that she is a woman of deep faith. You would like her. I hate to admit this, but she reminds me of Dale._

 _We eat at least one meal together every day. We aren't on the same team. We don't always work the same shift. Sometimes we eat lunch together; sometimes it is dinner. But so far we haven't missed a day. She tells me all about her family and I tell her about mine – my DLO family. I believe you would say that she is a God-sent friend, delivered just in time._

 _I also have developed an exercise routine. This isn't exactly a place you can go for a run. I work out in my room. It helps me to feel - normal - in control._

 _When my work seems too big for me, the challenge too enormous, I imagine you standing beside me, encouraging me. You tell me that I'm amazing at least twice a day._

 _I also take a few minutes every day to search for Hattie. I am determined to find her. I know that you will find Gabe. Looking for her helps me feel closer to you. If the two of them aren't already together, you and I can work to reunite them when I return. I miss working together._

 _I am going to survive this, and we will work together again._

 _Everything will be exactly as it was before I left. I am going to walk through those squeaky, double doors of the DLO, put my bag on my desk, and take off my coat. You will walk over to help me._

 _I will say, "Good morning, Oliver."_

 _You will reply, "Good morning Ms. McInerny." (Because it is more important than ever that we maintain professionalism at work.)_

 _You will glance around the DLO, and seeing no one, you will steal a kiss. Yes, Oliver O'Toole, you will kiss me in the DLO. Maybe a quick kiss? Just a little peck on check? Well a girl can dream._

 _Then Norman and Rita will come in together, pushing an entire cart of lost letters. Rita will rattle off data related to some partial postal code or stamp on some lost letter. Norman will tell us how one of his many cousins can help us solve our latest mystery._

 _We will all go to the Mailbox Grille for lunch. Joe will meet us. He will hug me and tell me how glad he is that I am back._

 _Until this happens, every morning I will keep the faith and finish the course._

 _The calendar tells me that spring began last week in Denver. You once sang "when it's springtime in the Rockies, I'll be coming home to you." Well, it's springtime and I can't wait to come home to you._

 _Your sweetheart (I hope),_

 _Shane_

When she read of "Springtime in the Rockies," she made Oliver laugh.

Then he heard her salutation; "Your sweetheart (I hope,)".

"Excuse me. May I see that," he said.

He took the letter, removed the pen from his pocket, and struck through the words "I hope."

Then taking both of her hands in his, he looked her straight into her blue eyes.

"You are my sweetheart," said Oliver.

He leaned his forehead against hers and stole a kiss.

Their conversation continued as he held her hand.

"I'm surprised you didn't organize an exercise class for your entire team," he joked.

"Oh, I thought about a dance class but I didn't have a partner," Shane quipped.

"That is correct. You only dance with me," Oliver said proudly.

"What happened to your friend?" asked Oliver.

"She got to go home a few weeks later," said Shane.

"That must have been disappointing for you," Oliver replied.

"Yes, it was disappointing for me. I mention it another letter. But I was happy for her. It was how I began to really think about the sacrifices others make every day for us. She had been there about 10 months on special assignment. She didn't expect to be deployed in the first place. She was married and had 2 small children. Her mother actually moved in when she left to help take care of the children," Shane explained.

"And how did her husband feel about that?" Oliver asked with a smile.

"Actually, they were very close. I think she said that both of his parents were deceased."

"When did you find Hattie?" asked Oliver.

"Just before Easter, I tell you about that in a letter too," said Shane.

"You really were faithful. You did finish the course. I hope you know that," said Oliver.

"I tried," said Shane with a sigh.

As the rain fell, the afternoon had slipped into late evening, and the two continued to read.

 _March 31_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _I have only a few minutes before I return to work but I couldn't wait to write. I just left a meeting in which I overheard Steve mention that several people would be flying out the end of next week. I think one of them will be me. I have already been here four weeks._

 _I'm coming home! Oh dear, I better find Hattie this week._

 _I CAN'T WAIT,_

 _Shane_

Hearing the joy she felt on March 31 when she thought she was coming home was bittersweet. His desire to have her return was certainly matched by her desire to return. This reassurance permeated every inch of Oliver's insecurity.

He was struck by how much of his hurt was unfounded and even self-centered.

"You thought you were coming home?"

"Yes, keep reading. I was wrong, of course."

 _April 2_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _Yesterday was April Fool's Day. Apparently I am the fool. Steve called me into his office. He started by telling me what an excellent job that I am doing and how important the work is. He said that what we are doing is world changing. He went on for about 30 minutes. He can be very affirming and convincing when he wants to be. Then he said, "We are going to need you to stay longer. The crisis isn't fully resolved." I asked how much longer. He said I needed to stay at least another six weeks. He reassured me that he wouldn't keep me one day longer than necessary._

 _I said, "thank you," as if he had done me a favor. Then I just stood and started to leave. I was stunned. He followed me into the hallway and offered to join me for dinner. I declined. He persisted. He said something about me not eating alone. He doesn't understand. If I'm not with you, I am alone._

 _Instead of going to dinner I returned to my room. I'm not hungry. I wanted to write to you. It seems to be as close to you as I can get right now. When I left Denver, I assumed that I would be home by the first of April. Assume nothing._

 _Missing you terribly,_

 _Shane_

 _P.S. On my way to my room I saw the woman with whom I have become friends. She is flying out imagined the disappointment that she felt on April 1 when she realized she had to stay far longer than expected. He was also rightfully irked, but not surprised, that Steve would try to take advantage of the situation with a dinner invitation._

Seeing the look of disgust on Oliver's face, Shane asked, "Something wrong?"

"Mr. Marek strikes again," Oliver said, dripping with sarcasm.

"Mr. Marek strikes out again," said Shane.

"I know. I know," said Oliver. "I'm not there yet where Mr. Marek is concerned. One day – maybe."

"How did he justify keeping you?" asked Oliver.

"He just said that the situation had spread. There were multiple threats and that we had to keep working. At that point every team-lead was staying. I had no reason to take it personally."

Then came the letter of April 9.

"Oliver do you remember when we were walking back from E Phlat?"

"Which part of the walk?" he asked with a grin.

Oliver began to stroke the back of her hand with this thumb.

"You are doing it again."

"What?" asked Oliver, feigning innocence.

"You are flirting with me."

"Oliver O'Toole would never flirt with a nice lady. His intentions would be quite clear."

"As I recall, you said that you didn't want a "nice lady," you wanted me."

They both laughed at the memory of the statement that had taken place a lifetime ago when he first asked her to be his dance partner.

"That was not my most gentlemanly request. I do apologize for being inarticulate with my invitation."

Oliver could barely get out the last statement for the two of them laughing.

"Now, back to the original question. On our walk back, do you remember - I was about to tell you why I stayed at the DLO," said Shane.

"Yes.," said Oliver emphatically.

"And then, our evening was upended," he added.

"This letter answers that question. Would you like to read it?" said Shane.

Oliver began reading aloud.

 _April 9_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _The reality of staying here another 6 – 8 weeks has hit me. As soon as I arrived I could tell it would be more than two or three weeks - but ten weeks, twelve weeks. I'm trying to press on – to do the right thing. As long as I've known you, you always seem to do the right thing – even when it is hard. Staying here may be doing the right thing. It is certainly the hard thing to do._

 _I wonder how things are going at the DLO? I know that three of you must be busy. I wonder if they sent a temporary replacement for me? Please note the use of the word temporary._

 _I once said that I knew that you would have no trouble replacing me. It was one of times I quit, in case you have forgotten. To be specific it was the time that you were almost dispatched with your favorite letter opener. I need to share with you the events that led to my quitting that time. I never really told you. Somehow I think you know. Holly's sudden return from Paris and my part in that return had already created quite a stir. Caitlyn and Joey had invited us all to the comedy club that night. I had gone with Rita and Norman. I heard Caitlyn and Joey say that a funny thing happened on the way to their divorce, they fell back in love. I thought of you and Holly. The reality that the two of you could fall back in love hit me pretty hard. I was torn. I knew how seriously you took your marriage. I knew that I wanted only the best for you. I left the club and was walking back to the DLO when I walked past the Mailbox Grille. There you were with Holly. I saw you dancing with our steps. I saw you kiss her. I want you to know that if had you reconciled with Holly, I would have never attempted to interfere. But if you had reconciled, I couldn't bear to watch you together either. Somewhere between a coffee cart and a porch swing, you became irreplaceable to me. That's why I quit that night._

 _On our walk back from E Phlat, you asked about why I stayed. You are the reason that I stayed at the DLO. You are the reason that I want to return._

 _This week I will talk to Steve to see if there is a way to let you know that my return is delayed._

 _Hopefully irreplaceable to you,_

 _Shane_

"From the day you came to the DLO, I never wanted you to leave. That night you almost impaled me with my own letter opener, I had no idea that you had seen - anything. I did not know why you were leaving. I wondered if it was related to something that I had done or failed to do. It was simply someplace I would not… allow…myself to go back then. When I saw you with that box of your things, I only knew that I didn't want you to leave. When my marriage ended, all I could think of was seeing you. I had nothing to offer you except a porch swing. But sitting there beside you, I felt - at peace - for the first time in a very long time."

The two smiled at each other.

"You. Are. Irreplaceable. You have been from day one," said Oliver.

"Good," Shane said. Feeling quite content Shane continued and read the next letter.

 _Easter Sunday, April 16_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _Friday I was having coffee in the cafeteria when I bumped into the chaplain, literally bumped into the chaplain._

Shane paused her reading to look at Oliver and smile. Oliver looked heavenward with laughing eyes at the image created before him.

 _My coffee became a new camouflage for his fatigues. I apologized profusely. He laughingly said that was fine and that I could come to the Easter service and hear his sermon as my penance. I had no intentions of going. However, I woke early, couldn't go back to sleep, and just decided to go._

"You went to church."

"Yes."

 _Last week was difficult. I lost sleep, worried about having to stay longer than anticipated, engaged in an ugly argument with Steve, and wrote a painful letter full of doubt about whether you even missed me._

Oliver could not help but grimace at that line.

 _I took my doubts and my worries and went to the Easter service. In the service I heard about another doubter named Thomas. The chaplain read, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe."_

 _I know that the story was about a far greater belief but I thought about how I can't see you right now. There are things about our relationship, and I do use that word cautiously, that we have yet to see. If I am fully honest, in some of my letters I have been rather presumptuous. Perhaps, I presume too much. Yet there are certain things in which I have decided to believe. I have chosen to believe._

 _I choose to believe in the big things – in the resurrection of life, of hope, of love. I choose to believe in miracles. I also choose to believe in you. I hope that you choose to believe in me._

 _I mentioned that last week, after an argument with Steve, I wrote a letter expressing my doubts about you even missing me.. You may call it an act of faith, or an act of repentance, but I shredded that letter. I chose to let go of doubt and chose to finish this course with hope._

 _With hope, and faith, and love,_

 _Shane_

This revelation brought a lump to Oliver's throat and tears to his eyes that required use of his handkerchief. "I am grateful for the choices you made."

"So am I," said Shane smiling.

"You mentioned a shredded letter. Is there anything we need to talk about?"

"No. I just became afraid that you didn't miss me. Let's move on to good news. Here you read it."

 _Sunday, April 23_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _I made two important discoveries this week – Hattie, and the origin of a quote that is very familiar to us._

 _I found Hattie and I think that she is alive. An A.T. Hatfield was trapped in the Super Dome for three days and then evacuated to Houston. That's probably why she dropped off the roles in Louisiana. It seems she started her business over again in Austin. I have a street address. As soon as I get home, perhaps we could make a trip to Austin to locate her – if you haven't already found that she and Gabe are together._

 _My second discovery came during the worship service this morning. It was in the text for the sermon by Chaplain I. Spill Coffee. The service itself is brief and informal. One hymn is sung and the chaplain offers a message. Of course, there is prayer. Today the chaplain read Ecclesiastes 4: 9 – 12._

"You went back to church?" asked Oliver.

Shane merely nodded.

 _I have thought about the passage all afternoon. He began with "Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor." We once agreed that we are very good at what we do. We deliver. One could say that we have enjoyed a remarkable return on our labor. I began to reflect on those returns and found myself smiling at thought of our adventures. I decided to write them down – to make a list. I will keep the list beside my bed. Especially while so far apart, it may be good to think on these things._

 _When I do think on these things, I cannot help but notice how much was reunited, restored, reconciled – how much of that which was lost was found._

 _Which brings me to my second discovery – the origin of a very familiar sentence. At the end of the passage the chaplain read, "A cord of three stands is not easily broken." I thought, "wait, that's from the letters of Catherine and Jonathan." That is where I first heard that quote. That is where I first asked you to pray._

 _I didn't know that those words came from the Bible. You probably did. Remember how that verse was followed by "two hearts joined by a greater one can withstand anything." Catherine and Jonathan's love withstood the tests of time, distance, and even the shadow of death. Gabe and Hattie will withstand the hurricane that swept them apart. We will withstand this test too. Because, two hearts joined by a greater one can withstand anything._

 _Withstanding by hope and faith,_

 _Shane_

 _P.S. Here are a few of the results of our divine deliveries: an innocent man was freed from jail; a little boy was saved from mobsters and reunited with his beloved grandmother; a girl's life was saved who needed a transplant and a husband's view of his marriage restored; a treasure box and a painting were returned to their rightful owners, both filled with love that would pass from generation to generation; a student was reunited with her hero/teacher and that hero's life reclaimed; two estranged sisters reconciled; twin brothers found each other and their mother's sacrifice was returned to her; a lost memory was reclaimed and young love was given a chance; two people who loved each other were allowed to become husband and wife._

Oliver paused and stared at the list. Each phrase was a technicolor memory for him. "We are good together. Aren't we," said Oliver.

"Yes. Yes we are."

"It stopped raining. Would you like to sit on that porch swing again?" Oliver asked.

"Indeed, I would," Shane replied. "Actually it is the perfect place to read my next letter."

"And why would that be?"

"You have to read the letter and to know," she replied with a mischievous grin.


	5. Chapter 5

Dear readers, Thank you for following the story of the reading of the letters to Oliver. Again I owe the characters and the inspiration to Martha Williamson. I am sure that she would tell the story with an almost ethereal and absolutely gracious hand. She writes like a cool breeze, never an overbearing wind. Nevertheless, I hope that you enjoy reading these as much as I have enjoyed writing.

The sun had long set and the evening was cool after the rain. Shane grabbed a sweater, and the two made their way to the porch. They sat down in the perfectly balanced, squeak-free swing. He slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"I will open it and you read it," said Shane with a big grin.

Oliver cleared his throat and accepted the challenge.

" _April 30,_ " he began. "Your birthday."

Shane nodded.

 _Today was my birthday. My team threw a party for me, complete with a cake._

 _In the interest of full disclosure, Steve bought me a birthday present._

 _Without thinking Oliver's arm which he had wrapped securely around her shoulders automatically moved to rest across the back of the swing._

 _He said that he was trying to make up for my having to stay longer than expected._

"I bet he was," mumbled Oliver.

 _I don't know what the gift was. I didn't accept it. It was in a small, rectangular, turquoise box with a white ribbon. How he acquired that from here I'll never know. That seemed an inappropriate package to offer an employee. I told him that I didn't think that you would like it; and if you didn't like it, then I wouldn't either._

Oliver paused and looked at Shane and smiled. His arm returned across her shoulders.

 _I didn't mean to offend him, but I wanted to be perfectly clear. You might say – return to sender._

Oliver couldn't help looking a little prideful at that phrase.

 _To the rest of the team I smiled and expressed all the appropriate words of appreciation. But in my heart, I ached. My mind went back to another party – Happy Birthday Shan – a solar powered abacus – a porch swing. As soon as I could gracefully bow out, I returned to my room to write you._

 _I would give anything to celebrate my birthday with you. You wouldn't have to buy me a present. I don't need a cake – not even with a good curd. I don't need dinner at Montaldo's. If I could sit on the porch with your arm around me, I would be perfectly content._

 _Ready to celebrate with you,_

 _Shane_

We. need. to. celebrate. your. birthday.

"I have my birthday wish right now."

"I think a belated party would be in order," said Oliver.

"Did you - remember - my birthday?" Shane asked sheepishly.

"I did. You may have a gift in a drawer at my house," said Oliver.

"Then it is smaller than a porch swing."

"Most definitely."

"Another solar powered abacus!"

"No," laughed Oliver. "You will have to wait until we celebrate. Hopefully you won't threaten me with a letter opener this time."

They both chuckled at the thought.

What he didn't tell her was that the following Monday after her birthday he moved her desk. Assuming that she would return before her birthday, Oliver had bought tickets to a jazz concert at the Boettcher Concert Hall and had purchased a small antique rose gold brooch shaped like a rosebud. The letter she wrote wasn't the only thing that was shredded - so were the concert tickets. The gift was in the top drawer of his dresser at his home.

As the night deepened the mood shifted from the lighthearted and the lovely remembrances to the heavier topics of motivations and nightmares.

The letter of May 7 revealed more longing to come home. Shane's hope was that no more need of a passport meant no more need of her. This proved not to be the case.

 _Sunday, May 7_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _Good news, I think. It seems that soon I won't need my passport. Steve verified that I will leave here within the next ten days. I consider that a hopeful sign. My team has been leaving one by one for the past three days. I understand another person leaves tomorrow. He said he couldn't shut down the operation yet. I don't know what that means exactly. I'm not ready to ask. I'm hoping that as soon as I don't need a passport, that I won't be needed at all._

 _I remember that Jonathan wrote to Catherine that he would lie awake at night, hear trains whistle and think of them headed west to where she was. There are no train whistles here. There is the sound of helicopters taking off – of someone leaving._

 _I think of myself leaving, heading west, to the Rockies, to Denver, to you. I think of the joy of working beside you – of simple things – of Yoohoo's and smoothies – of Rita adjusting her glasses with the fingers of her right hand – of the many startled expressions of Norman – of the sound of a dead letter shooting up the tube to its rightful recipient. I think of you calling me Ms. McInerny in the day and Shane in the evening. You have no idea how often I think of you._

 _With hope and faith that our time apart is about to end,_

 _Shane_

Hearing her read of her hopes and knowing that another month would pass before she came home, Oliver felt his anger at Steve start to resurface. To him this was just one more time that Steve should have allowed Shane to leave. He didn't want to confront Shane about this any further. He didn't want an "I told you" moment. He knew that she wasn't truly complicit in staying but why was even a small part of him still angry with her too? Why did she not just say that she had been there long enough and quit? Why didn't she just see through Steve and come home? Three weeks was one thing. Three months was something else all together. Truth be told, missing him or not, there was still a thread that left hanging in Oliver's mind could become a web of doubt.

But the next two letters eliminated that thread and revealed a side of Shane that Oliver had neither understood nor fully appreciated – her primary motivation for staying on the job. This was the string that had kept Shane tied to a desk, in front of a computer screen, and away from Oliver.

 _Friday, May 12_

 _According to the clock, it's 3:15 in the morning, daylight saving time, my body feels like it is still in another time zone. Yes, I am in this time zone. I am back on American soil!_

 _Wednesday morning Steve told me to be on standby, that we were leaving on the next available plane. After a very long flight we landed in Dover. A jeep drove us to the other side of the base to catch a helicopter to Langley. When we stepped off the plane the night was so beautiful. The sky was clear and full of stars. I'm grateful to be home, almost home._

 _Several career military were traveling with us. Everywhere I've been for the past 10 weeks, I've been surrounded by military, getting a closer look at the price they pay for the life we enjoy._

 _Take a letter for instance. I can write a letter, to whomever I choose, say whatever I want, mail it, and only the intended recipient is allowed to open that letter. We even have laws to protect the confidentiality and privacy of that letter should it be lost. The people that I've been serving beside, they pay a big price; their families pay a big price, for things we too often take for granted like the right to send a letter._

 _When we were on the helicopter, I thought about the rescue of Lieutenant Amidon –the courage it took to attempt that rescue, the courage it took for her to survive. I thought about being with you, sitting on the steps, sharing a sandwich, waiting and hoping for word of her rescue. You draped your coat around my shoulders. You were already my hero. Yes, my heart skipped a beat or two that night._

 _Funny, as soon as we got back in the States, I wanted so badly to slip away, and find a phone to call you. But I think about the men and women who do the right thing – the hard thing – the sacrificial thing, more difficult than anything I have done, not just for 10 weeks, but some for an entire career. Surely, I can follow the rules for just a few more days._

 _Until I can be beside you again,_

 _Shane_

Shane arrived back in the United States literally in wee small hours of the morning. Her witnessing the sacrifices of men and women in military service had been the motivating force in her willingness to sacrifice and remain. While the example of the Amidon's made one incredible impact, now it was she who worked along side such dedication and courage. She would never carry a gun or go into battle but she would do this one thing, and she would do it well and faithfully. As long as she believed that her presence was critical to the safety and security of the United States, she would stay.

As she read the memory of Phoebe Amidon running to her mother, the sound her voice crying out on the tarmac poured over Oliver. He thought about the humility and the steadfastness of Harper, a serviceman himself who knew grief and loss and yet lovingly raised a young granddaughter. Shane didn't stay for the love of Steve, for the love of D.C., for the love of adventure, for the love of the work, but for the love of country and her sense of duty. In light of multiple tours of duty, Shane's 3 months were brief.

Oliver interrupted her reading.

"I should have thought. I should have thought of Phoebe and Harper. I really had no idea where you were or what you were doing," said Oliver.

"I know. And it shouldn't have been that way. I was so busy between the work itself and trying to do what I thought was right that I didn't really question Steve's veracity. You see, I work for this guy at the DLO who believes in spring and doing the right thing. I have watched him over and over again do the right thing. His example encouraged me to do what I thought was my duty for my country," said Shane.

She looked up at Oliver with a big smile, fixing her eyes on his.

"It was really hard being away. It was stressful, tiring, and lonely. I need to believe – I need to believe that all of it wasn't a lie. I need to believe that I did something important. I need to believe that all of this served a greater purpose, even between us," Shane said.

Oliver knew that Shane was good at what she did. He respected her ability and skill. But to separate the hurt he felt with her absence from the importance and necessity of the work was difficult – especially after 3 months. For the first time, Oliver began to see Shane's work through Shane's eyes.

Oliver sighed and shook his head.

"I allowed my distrust of Mr. Marek's intentions to blind me to a greater purpose that your absence served. I am truly sorry for that. No one should diminish the value of your service, especially me."

Oliver held her face in his hands.

"Your intentions were honorable, your work was important. Steve's were not. That does not lessen your contribution."

"You certainly helped me define Steve's intentions," Shane said emphatically.

Then she lowered her voice and her eyes.

"Even if that visit did sting," said Shane.

"The visit to Langley?" said Oliver.

She simply nodded.

"When you hadn't returned, I didn't know what to do. We had been playing poker one night and I folded and went outside….Are you laughing at me?" said Oliver.

She was doing everything she could to keep a straight face but it was to no avail. For some reason the conversation about his visit to Langley made Shane uncomfortable – even nervous. It was one more time that Oliver hurt her. Her chuckle was a combination of the thought of Oliver playing poker and of nerves.

"I'm sorry. I just can't get used to you playing poker," said Shane.

"Please, go ahead," she said.

"As I was saying, I went outside. Norman followed me. He said some very honest and direct things to me. I owe the initiative to go to Langley to Norman."

"Norman?"

"Yes. He helped me see that if I really wanted you to come back, then I should take action. I went to Langley without a plan. I didn't even know where you were. I was trying to see if anyone there could tell me anything. I asked to see Steve. He played word games. He told me that you were out of the country," said Oliver.

"He said I was out of the country," Shane said.

Her eyes told of disbelief and disgust in Steve's subterfuge.

"Oh yes. I was already getting angry and then I saw you. You looked beautiful, totally in control, free to choose. I thought that you were where you wanted to be," said Oliver.

"It was not where I wanted to be. It also wasn't the reunion I dreamed about having," said Shane.

"But you did help me get off the plane," said Shane.

"What plane?" said Oliver.

"Here, this will explain."

 _Wednesday, May 17_

 _Dear Oliver,_

 _The operation is still on going. When I wrote you in the wee small hours of the morning last Friday, I thought I might be in Denver by the end of this week. I thought that when I completed the myriad filings that I would be finished. However, like winter in Denver, it just doesn't seem to end._

 _Yesterday, as I was leaving the building, I saw an officer step off the elevator into the lobby. Apparently, his wife and children were waiting for him. The children squealed "daddy" and ran to him as soon as they saw him. It was quite the reunion. My thoughts went to the people still in that outpost. Some have been there 15 months. If I am needed, I should stay. But the struggle between longing and loyalty is real. The loneliness takes a toll._

 _Is my absence taking a toll on you? Are you all right? I worry that you think I've abandoned you. I have been particularly concerned as of late. I had the strangest dream. It haunts me._

 _I dreamed the other night that you were at an airport, waiting for me. It was one of those dreams that you know it is an airport but you don't know why. It wasn't an airport that I had ever seen. You were standing at this wall of windows, looking out at the runway. You looked anxious and sad. You were holding a bouquet of flowers, wrapped in white paper. People were disembarking this huge plane by climbing down metal stairs. I could see everything as if from far above. I kept looking for myself to get off the plane._

 _I kept thinking, "Oliver is waiting for me. Get off the plane."_

 _There were crowds of people – more than could possibly be on one plane - leaving the plane, climbing down the stairs. The first person I recognized was Hazel. She had her mailbag. I thought, "What is she doing with her mailbag on a plane? This isn't her route."_

 _Then I spotted Rita among the masses leaving the plane. I tried to call to her but she didn't hear me. In my mind, she was meeting Norman. But I didn't see Norman. In the dream, this all seemed logical._

 _Then I saw Holly get off the plane. I thought to myself, "You are in Paris."_

 _Then I recognized Dale getting off the plane. I thought, "She is supposed to be at choir practice." As I said, in my dream this all seemed to make perfect sense._

 _All the while, I could see you, standing at the huge glass wall, holding those flowers, looking at the runway, waiting for me, looking worried and alone._

 _Finally, no one got off the plane. The stairs were empty. I kept thinking, "I've got to get off this plane." I started shouting over and over again, "Get off the plane, get off the plane."_

 _Then the door to plane closed with me still inside. I woke crying._

 _Help me Mr. O'Toole. I need something profound._

 _I need to get off this plane._

 _I need you._

 _When I step into hallways or go outside, I catch myself looking for you, as if you will magically appear. In my mind, you would smile and hold out your arms for me when you see me. I would know that you had come for me. I would run to you. I would not look back._

 _Trying to hang on,_

 _Shane_

By the time Oliver read the ending he was choking back tears once again. The lack of sleep combined with Shane's return had his emotions a little raw. He put his arm around Shane and held her close once more. He felt like a cad.

"Don't you see? I needed you to come for me and you did. I needed to learn the truth from Steve and I did. Perhaps, you needed to come for me, too. I might still be sitting behind a desk at Langley, miserable, if you hadn't come," she said.

Shane said every word without any hint of regret or resentment. But she had said all that she could. She had no more words to reassure Oliver. She was physically worn out and emotionally exhausted. There are times to embrace and times to refrain from embracing. It was time for him to embrace her – to embrace her with more than one brief kiss on the stairs or even one passionate kiss in the DLO. She needed for him to make clear why he moved her desk.

Oliver smiled softly.

"In the spirit of full disclosure, I too had sleepless nights. I had this recurring nightmare of you walking away from me. I could see only your back as you walked away into a dark mist.

"What did you do?" Shane asked.

"You are going to laugh. I kept calling, 'Come back Shane.'"

Oliver chuckled at his answer.

"YOU DIDN'T." She said with a laugh.

They both could laugh at it now. It wasn't funny when it was happening.

Then a flood of words and memories poured from Oliver.

"In my dream you were walking away. I have always known that you could have walked away from the Post Office, from me, at any moment for another career, for more money, for more excitement. Yet you stayed. I alone have given you cause to leave. I drug you into dance classes - classes that you did not want to take - and then I ended them. I and I alone created a situation in which you were hurt and your reputation could have been compromised. Yet you were so gracious. You said something like, 'we were good together weren't we.' When you told me things I needed to hear but didn't want to hear, I turned on you – with a vengeance - I remember my 'perhaps you presume too much' barb. Yet you – you remained a true friend. I had the audacity to challenge your dancing with Jordan Marley. I had not the right. You could have been at a spa that Christmas, prepaid I'm sure, and yet you came back so I would not be alone. And I offered you nothing," said Oliver.

"Oliver," said Shane.

But Oliver just kept going.

"That morning after Holly returned, I had been up all night, I was so torn. I came into work early and who is there – up on a virtual scaffold – offering me words of encouragement, words that called on me to do the right thing? Or when I learned about my dad, who threw her arms around me when I was so un-embraceable?"

"Oliver, you…," began Shane.

"No, let me finish," Oliver insisted.

"I asked you out to dinner in D.C. and instead we ate a sandwich on some very hard concrete steps," said Oliver.

"With no chips," added Shane.

"With no chips. I ask you out at Valentine's and leave you in tears at the table. I saw – and I knew I was responsible. That night, when I looked at you sitting there across from me – I thought – I thought that you were the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen. I couldn't breathe. Then we started to dance. I kept telling myself to maintain control, that it was just dinner. It was not just, just anything. I wish I had told you then."

Oliver pressed on.

"Finally we get our night together, I was having the best time, the very best time. It was the perfect night," said Oliver.

"Our night was upended," said Oliver. "And I did not take it well."

"Some moonlit walks don't end well, or at least don't end as planned," said Shane.

"The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, when the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, and they did make no noise, in such a night."

"Shakespeare?" said Shane.

"Yes," said Oliver.

"What about tonight? How is it going to end?" said Shane.

"Look across the street. Do you see what I see?" said Oliver.

"It's daybreak," said Shane.

"O satisfy us in the morning with Your loving kindness, That we may sing for joy and be glad all our days," quoted Oliver.

"Scripture?" said Shane.

"The psalms," said Oliver.

"Are you…glad?" asked Shane.

"Very," said Oliver.

The two sat to watch the sunrise and then parted with a kiss and the promise of dinner together.

What Oliver didn't know was that there was one more letter – one last letter – in the bottom of Shane's bag. She was not ready to read it. In the letter of May 21 she had poured out her deepest feelings for him. She had confessed that she believed that she had met the man that she had been waiting for all her life. She had stopped just short of those three most important words – I love you.

As much as Oliver needed for Shane to return – to be a woman of her word, Shane needed for Oliver to come for her, to take the initiative. She needed for him to declare first his intentions, his feelings. He had poured out a great deal for the reserved and injured Mr. O'Toole. But those three most important words had yet to be spoken. She would wait.


	6. Epilogue: Letters Not Delivered

The Shredded Letter

Thursday, April 13

Dear Oliver,

Today didn't go well.

I didn't get much sleep last night. I have been very troubled by my extended stay. I decided to go by Steve's office. I admit that my disposition wasn't pleasant. First I asked if there was any way that you could be informed that my return was delayed. I wanted you to know that I was all right and would be returning as soon as possible. He said no. I let Steve know that I wanted to be released as soon as possible. I told him that I was sure that the DLO needed me. He seemed indignant and assured me that they would not keep me one day more than necessary. I think I've heard that before. Then the argument started.

He asked if I was "pining away for a dead letter office or the guy who worked there." It was a dig.

He didn't stop. He said that maybe I should ask myself whether my returning to Denver actually mattered to the people at the dead letter office.

I said, "You mean Oliver."

He said, "You bet I do."

He said that if you really wanted me back, that you could have called Washington at least one time to see if there was any information concerning me. He said as he remembered it, you encouraged me to leave. He said that if my work in Denver was so important then why did you so readily let me go. He said that apparently the DLO and you could manage without me.

Then he went for the heart.

He asked if I had any real reason to believe that you cared for me, were in love with me. He asked me why you didn't take me in your arms when we said goodbye and kiss me like a man saying goodbye to the woman he loved.

I told him that he was way out of line, that he was never to speak of you like that again, and stormed out of his office.

An hour later Steve came to find me and apologized. He said that he was out of line and that he had no right to say those things. He said the stress of the moment was getting to us all and that he was under enormous pressure from the top brass. He told me that he was terribly sorry and asked me to forgive him. He said that hoped to make it up to me. He said that he really needed me, that the operation needed me. He said that he couldn't afford for me to leave yet.

Forgiveness, that is the right thing to do. But Oliver, his words hurt. It hurt because I wasn't certain of the answers. I began to wonder about, about us. On the one hand, I'm sure that out of respect for me, you wouldn't interfere in my making my own decisions. On the other hand, as another letter writer once asked, why did you let me go?

I began to question why we can't successfully complete one date.

The kiss, that brief kiss, on steps at the jazz club meant the world to me. What did it mean to you?

You are at home, surrounded by people who love you. You work with Norman and Rita, two people who you cherish. You have a real chance to be with your dad. Do you even miss me?

You have your church. Are you enjoying choir practice – with Dale?

Do you resent the fact that I left? Do you trust me to return?

Will we ever share the letters that I have written? Or will you simply ask me to return your pen?

No Oliver, today didn't go well.

Shane

The Letter Withheld Until the Timing is Right

Sunday, May 21

Dear Oliver

This week I continued fulfilling my responsibilities, completing more reports, and training others to do what I've been doing. Top officials have approached me informally about a permanent appointment. I made it clear that I have no intention of staying. Steve keeps saying that I will be released as soon as possible.

Today I was in meeting in which I was required to sign more confidentiality agreements. I took your pen out of my bag to sign the papers. An older, distinguished gentleman saw the pen. Admiring the pen he said, "Excuse me, do you know what you have there?"

I said, "Oh yes, yes. I definitely do."

I know what I have. I know what I miss.

I'm increasingly worried about you. I've been gone for almost 3 months. I want to tell you to not lose heart. I want to tell you that each day that passes is one day sooner that I will be home.

As I have mentioned previously, I often think of the letters we shared the afternoon we were locked in the bank vault – the letters Jonathan and Catherine wrote to each other. Perhaps it is because they were separated by the miles, as we are. Perhaps it is because they had shared only one date, only one kiss, as we have. Perhaps it is because the words they shared express what I have felt for you for so very long.

Sometimes, I fear that we have left too many words unspoken. Perhaps I presume too much. Perhaps what I see in your eyes isn't your feelings for me but only the reflection of what I feel for you.

At the risk of seeming foolish, of being too bold, there are things I must tell you. Even as I write these words, I don't know if I will have the courage to actually give you this letter – or any of these letters when I return.

I decided to use the words we shared in a bank vault one afternoon that now seems so long ago. Oliver, something tells me against all common sense that I have met the one that I have been waiting for all my life. You are the best person that I have ever known. When you came for me on our first date and told me that I looked beautiful, in that moment you made me feel so. When you kissed me, I was truly happy for the first time. They were not the first lips that I have ever kissed, but until we meet again, they will be the last.

Shane

Epilogue:

This was to be the last letter that Shane wrote to Oliver before she returned to Denver. That week, Oliver came to Langley and reclaimed his pen.

Their reunion wasn't as she had envisioned. His eyes did not light when he saw her. His arms did not open to receive her. Instead, his eyes were filled with sadness, hurt, anger and bewilderment. His arms held back in reserve.

Her heels did not click on the tile floor as she ran to meet him. Her arms weren't thrown around his neck as he whispered to her that "it's ok" as he had so long ago in that bank vault.

The coolness of their encounter felt like an indictment to Shane. He seemed wounded. If she reached for him, he would surely bite. She held herself together and her hopes and her longing at bay.

But he had come and deep down she knew that he had come for her. In all the many months that his wife had been in Paris, he had never gone after her. After three months he had flown to D.C. for Shane. That had to mean something.

Ultimately, he did help her get off that plane. He did saying something profound: "I can't lie to you. I'm just wondering if Steve can."

Shane learned the truth. And the truth set her free – free to return.


End file.
